Only The Good Die Young
by LongLiveLennon
Summary: And as Johnny closes his eyes, he slips away. To a land where the sun always sets, to where he doesn't have to feel fear. Johnny deserved those things, even if he didn't know it. ONE-SHOT
1. Chapter 1

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes.

That was not the case for Johnny Cade.

A montage of memories didn't surge through his brain like in the movies. Maybe it was because Johnny had barely had a life. Sixteen years isn't very long; especially when most of them are consumed by fear.

Instead, Johnny lay immobilized in a hospital bed, knowing his life would end soon. And for the first time, Johnny wasn't scared. He wasn't afraid of death.

Johnny had spent most of his life in fear-fear of his father's dark, soulless eyes as he beat his only child, fear of his mother's harsh, cruel words that stabbed him like a knife, the words that hurt more than all of his father's beatings. Fear of being jumped by the Socs, the same one with rings; rings that made Johnny bleed, which broke him, physically and mentally. Fear of his own shadow. Fear of life.

But Johnny didn't consider that his life. He considered his friends-the gang- his life. He remembered all the times he had slept at Ponyboy's house, waking up to a breakfast of chocolate cake and eggs. All the jokes Two-Bit had told, non-sense jokes that had every one in tears. All the times he had walked with Ponyboy down to the DX, where they perched on the counter and mooched Pepsi and candy bars from Sodapop. That was Johnny Cade's life. Those were the people, the moments, which defined him as a person.

Of course he didn't want to die. Not now. All those times he wished he had the courage to pick up one of those cold guns and pull the trigger on himself, all those times he wished his father would beat him to death; he feels foolish for wishing for death. They say to be careful what you wish for, and Johnny learned it. The hard way.

He decided to embrace death. He wasn't afraid. He hadn't given up; no, if there was one thing Johnny Cade was, it was a fighter. But he's come to terms with death, has accepted the fact that he won't live to see that beautiful golden sunrise one more time. There was nothing he could do about it now. Everyone died sometime, and if Johnny didn't die from this, he'd go some other way. That was the way the world worked. It was the law of man.

He can't help to think about what he was going to miss out on; leaving town and doing something with his life; maybe even getting married and having children of his own. He had been determined to become a better father than his own, but now he wouldn't have the chance.

The clock ticks; marking each minute, of which he only has a few left until he dies.

But if he could go back and re-do it, he wouldn't. Of course, he hadn't wanted to kill that Soc. That had never been his intention. But that time he spent with Ponyboy in that church, well, it was the best time of his life. Even though they had to hide, had to fear every noise, Johnny had learned so much. He learned to appreciate the little things in life, like the sunset. He didn't regret saving those kids. It was the noblest thing he had done in his life. He minds flashes back to the book, _Gone with the Wind, _and he wonders if he'll die gallantly, die like the Southern gentlemen did.

The door to his room opens, and he hears Dally whisper his name.

He manages to open his eyes, the simple act making his heart heavy, making him weak.

"Hey," Johnny says, his voice barely a whisper. He is alarmed at how weak he sounds, as frail as a twig.

"We won. We beat the Socs. We stomped them- chased them outa our territory."

"Use… fighting's no good…." Johnny managed. And he was right. Even if the Greaser had won, at the end of the day; Socs were still Socs and Greasers were still Greasers. It would never change. It was a never ending battle. And Johnny knew that.

He could barely keep his eyes open as Dally continued. "They're still writing editorials about you in the paper. For being a hero and all. Yeah, they're calling you a hero now and heroizin' all the greasers. We're all proud of you, buddy."

If Johnny could've smiled then, a grin a mile long would be stretched across his face. He felt pride swell in his chest. Dally was proud of him. He had always wanted to make someone proud; to do something admirable. And he had.

"Ponyboy." Johnny calls him over. He knows his life is ending; he's only got a few seconds left, a minute at most. He needs to tell Ponyboy.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy, stay gold…" Johnny utters, using the last of his strength. He hopes Ponyboy does; he doesn't want him to change because he's a Greaser. He doesn't want Ponyboy to harden, like Dally. He wants Ponyboy to stay gold, pure. To keep watching the sunset.

And as Johnny closes his eyes, he slips away. To a land where the sun always sets, to where he doesn't have to feel fear. Johnny deserved those things, even if he didn't know it.

There was no fear in the land of gold.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first Outsiders fanfic. I just read the book about two weeks ago, and loved it. I read the whole thing the day I bought it, and immediately watched the movie after. I noticed the shortage of Outsiders fanfics; most of the stories on here are an OC that one of the guys falls for. So, I decided to write this. I'm thinking about writing about what Dally's thinking before he dies. Please review and tell me if you'd like me to write that.


	2. Chapter 2

Dallas Winston always knew he'd die young.

That had never been a question; it was a fact. Since the tender age of ten, Dallas knew his life wouldn't last long.

But he never thought he'd outlive Johnny.

It wasn't fair. Johnny didn't deserve that, he was too good for that. The world had been so cruel to him, chewed him up and spit him back out. The world had destroyed Johnny.

But that was another fact Dallas had learned from a young age; the world was never fair.

On the rough streets of New York, Dally had seen people die. He had seen the glazed over look in their eyes as the life drained from their body, and that affected him. He would never admit that to anyone, but with seeing those people die, something inside of him had died as well. His innocence.

That pure, childlike wonder and innocence had been long gone. Dally had seen too much with his young eyes, seen how cruel the world could actually be. He learned to encase his heart in steel, to surround himself with a shield of hatred. Maybe, just maybe, if he was strong enough, the world wouldn't be able to hurt him. Dally had already had enough hurt in his lifetime.

But Johnny got past that barricade. Small, quiet Johnny, who was afraid of his own shadow, seemed like the last person who'd be able to break Dally's wall. But he did.

And no matter how many times he tried to deny it, Dally did care. He cared so much for Johnny, loved him like a younger brother. It was his job to protect Johnny, but he failed.

Johnny was gone now. Dead.

Just thinking about it made Dally want to scream, to yell at the world, to run. But most of all, Dally just wanted to cry.

It was foreign to him now, crying. He hasn't done it in so long. Had his tears dried up? Dallas Winston, the man of steel, was never supposed to cry.

He wasn't allowed to feel anything.

And standing there, with the cops in front of him, he knows what he has to do.

He briefly wondered if there was a heaven. He had never been religious at all, never believed in God, but in that brief moment, he hoped for Johnny's sake heaven was real. Johnny deserved that.

He pulls the unloaded gun from his jacket, and smiles that dark, reckless grin. Even moments before his death, Dally wasn't allowed to show his true emotions. No, he still had to mask them, because he wasn't weak. Only the weak showed emotions, and in this world, the weak had no chance of surviving.

He watches as the police man puts his finger on the trigger of the gun. Just one little squeeze, and Dally's life would be over. Just the moment of a finger could take the life of someone.

Dally wouldn't die a hero, like Johnny. He wouldn't get commended in the paper, or be remembered for saving lives. Dally would die a hood, a delinquent. He would just become another statistic, nothing more.

But at least he'd go out with a bang.

The police man pulls the trigger on his gun, the bullet sailing through the air.

_This one's for you, Johnny._

__And with that one sound, that one crack of the gun, Dallas is finally free.

After all, if something so terrible could happen to someone as good as Johnny, what chance did Dally have in the world?


End file.
